Joanie films more NOVA and tests for that BBC Wales show. She's ambushed by a paparazzo and agrees to be the companion of a TV doctor. Babs and Joanie have a life-changing phone call. Our heroine meets a PBS legend and is filmed for This Old House. Work begins on her farm housing project. Joanie plans to teach a unique history seminar and gets bad news about the Smith's twins patent. Pinky reveals why Whateley labled her a dangerous student.

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Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the whole nine yards epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, though comma useage is still confusing; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006.

Adult content advisory: this chapter was word processed on equipment that uses the Windows XP Pro operating system, therefore all errors are not my fault, it’s the software, honest. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Hands thrown up in the air over my typos by Itinerant
Pain management by aspirin in large doses
Suffering in sunny 70 to 80 degree weather, Janet Nolan. And she proofs too.

Chapter 14, Who’s on First 2, The Sabers-Regrets, This Old Farm House, Advanced Field Tripping for Dummies, Welcome to Adulthood

Whateley Academy Dunwich, Des Moines IA, Boston MA, April 28- 30, 2007

April 28, 2007

“No way! And if you’re even thinking of me sunbathing topless I’ll...”

I thought I saw a smirk flash on their faces for a moment; it was hard to tell in the low light of the restaurant. I was shouting, and the other dinners were paying attention; I think the “topless” reference *peaked* their interest.

“You misunderstand us, Ms. Brown; I was referring to your singing. We will, of course, use your lovely body to full effect, but nothing tasteless or tacky. Doctor Who was and is a general audience show. It may be a bit harder edged than in the past, but this is hardly the Playboy Channel,” the BBC exec said.

“Yeah, I’m due to be on that soon and wearing less than that bikini I was griping about; sorry,” I said, and started to giggle.

This whole conversation had suddenly become surreal and funny to me. They relaxed, laughed politely at my reaction, and the interest in our table waned.

“Ms. Brown,” he continued.

“Call me Joanie, please. I’m little ole’ Joanie, well not so little,” I said and gestured at my chest. “If yah got um, flaunt um, and Girl have I got um,” I said and relaxed, my humor saving me once again from taking myself too seriously.

“Joanie, Doctor Who is one of the top rated programs in England and is doing phenomenally well world-wide,” the exec said.

“Yeah, but it’s on cable in the US, and some of us don’t like paying for our TV and still receiving ads; I know I don’t,” I explained.

“We intend to offer it to PBS at a reasonable fee after it runs on cable; we do wish to broaden our audience.”

“Well, in that case, okay. I have to run this by my employer, and it all depends on when you can shoot this,” I replied.

“It will take a couple of weeks to rewrite your scenes and the related scenes. Since much of the show involves only the aliens and/or the Doctor, those won’t have to be changed and can be shot first. Anytime in June would do, as long as we are done by the beginning of July,” he explained.

“Summer school starts at the beginning of July, so that could work. I do have other commitments in June; how long did you say this would take?” I asked.

“If you work hard, and study your lines before your arrival in Wales, two weeks hard shooting will do. Help us, Joanie, by using your ‘charm’ on the union representatives … If you explain to them how you need to get back to the States, we may be able to extend each days shooting hours to accommodate you. We might get it done in less than two weeks with luck. Let’s face it, would any one turn you down?” the exec asked.

“I’m not having sex with the union representatives; that’s out. I have my standards. But an orgy, with treacle and clotted-cream ....” I said trying to rattle him.

“You are incorrigible, Joanie. Mr. Hefner said you had a wicked sense of humor -- half schoolgirl, half night club comic. That is another reason why we want you. The current stories are darker than in the past, but that’s all the more reason for a leavening of humor at appropriate points,“ said David Tennant. “Please come and work with me; I promise you’ll enjoy it. The Welsh are proud of the production and are bending over backwards to help us,” he explained.

~~Lord, give me the strength to resist such straight-lines. ~~

“It’s tempting; the guys in my old sci-fi club will freak when they find out I’m in it. Don’t look at me like that; they know me as Joanie, not my old self.

"It’s a marvelous opportunity, but I don’t know if I can. I’d have to make numerous arrangements to be able to come. I’m in the middle of rehabbing a farmhouse and building a home; there are my cats to consider. I have a dear friend due to give birth to twins this summer; I need to be there for her. I am a friend, mentor and confidant for a number of students -- one student in particular. I can’t just pack up and go. Give me a few days to talk with Administration and my friends, and I’ll give you my answer,” I said.

“We talked with Ms. Carson earlier, and she has no objections. We offered to pay your school compensation for your lost services; she was most appreciative,” the BBC exec said. “Will you test for us tomorrow? It will take a few hours of your time.”

“I can promise you that much, but only to show you how bad I am as an actress.”

“We saw the footage you shot for NOVA today; you’ll be fine, Joanie,” the BBC exec said.

~~Why does that not make me feel any better? ~~

* * * *

April 29, 2007

We shot the tests on Sunday morning; the crew cost them a fortune in overtime, or would have if I hadn’t ... I only flirted a little -- gees dear d/j/w; don’t get your keyboard in a bunch. It didn’t take much effort to flirt; my low-cut sundress did most of the work for me. Anyhow, that one camera girl was a hottie. Amazing how well a crew works if they are motivated -- no, I didn’t cheat on Eric, tempting as she was.

Late Sunday morning, we began shooting some of my NOVA scenes. I’d had a nagging feeling since forming our band that something was not right. It hit me as I narrated a particular scene about Gross Structural Deformity, or GSD. All the band members were attractive, most were exemplars or, if not, at least better looking than average. I had intended the band to be open to all, and that talent, personality, and availability would be the only criteria for membership -- if you played or sang well, could get along, and had the time, you were in.

I’d forgotten that those with GSD or other physical conditions that made them stand out -- odd coloration, wings, tails, fur and so on -- had likely been abused and teased cruelly. They had learned to assume the worst from others; it was likely that talented people chose not to try out for the band, assuming they’d be ridiculed. My good looks probably reinforced their fears; what would a hot babe like me want with them? I felt small; the triumph of being offered a role in a popular TV series faded to nothingness in my mind. I resolved to atone for this oversight once I returned to Whateley. At a minimum, I vowed to make friends among them; there had to be some great kids trapped in those unusual bodies.

About one-ish we reviewed my NOVA and Doctor Who footage; I had a hard time watching my own work. The NOVA people were pleased and said I was great. I admitted I did look confident on camera; hell, I was making love to the camera. I said as much to the others.

“Isn’t that too much? I think I went over-the-top on this.”

“Are you uncomfortable with your performance, Joanie? You shouldn’t be, you were perfect; you came off as confident and enthusiastic -- a perfect host for the show,” said my mini-series producer.

“I still think I was seducing the camera.” I was not convinced I’d done well.

“Trust me, Joanie, if you can do that with me on Doctor Who, you’ll be smashing,” Mr. Tennant said, smiling broadly.

“You folks are the experts, not me. I’ll be happy not to crash and burn,” I said glumly, then I giggled.

“You were having us on, Joanie,” said the BBC exec.

“Yeah, I had to have some fun today. Everyone was great during the filming and thank you for that,” I said. “I enjoyed the experience immensely and that scares me,” I said and giggled again, this time from nervousness.

~~Is the BBC executive leering at me? Nah, must be my imagination. ~~

“Why do you think I’m an actor? The feedback from the audience is like a drug,” explained Mr. Tennant.

“Marvelous, and me with an addictive/compulsive streak. I can see myself standing on a street-corner saying, ‘Hey, Mister, five seconds clapping for a blow-job?’ ‘Euw, an applause junky, no way lady!’” I joked, but deep inside I was worried -- would I abandon my friends to the ‘drug’ of performing?

The PBS and BBC people must have been impressed by the footage, as I got the VIP treatment from both camps. If they’d sucked-up any harder I’d have been in a full vacuum. Mr. Tennant spoke glowingly of the entire BBC Wales/Doctor Who production staff and told me his take on the three shows we would do. They described the storyline as we rode to a late lunch at that classy hotel we’d dined in the night before.

The proposed story line would connect all three episodes. It involved aspects of anti-mutant bigotry, alien races and a race to recover surviving Time Lord technology. Earth was a cross-roads of this race due to the Doctor’s and other Time Lords frequent visits to the planet.

My character was a young, human mutant, who was a college student studying in the emerging field of exobiology -- the study of life on other worlds. For relaxation she sang with a local band and was getting some recognition as a performer. This regrettably made her a target of the radical anti-mutants. It also was an excuse for me to sing on the show, most likely in some sexy outfit. Can you say ‘type casting’, boys and girls? Ghod, I miss Mr. Rodgers.

A radical anti-mutant group aligned, unknowingly with one of the alien races, bombs the lab in an attempt to kill her. The explosion exposes my character to samples of Galifrian genetic materials a clandestine government agency was testing surreptitiously. Her mutant physiology makes her compatible with it, and she is slowly transformed into a Galifrian, a member of the Doctor’s destroyed race of time travelers. This makes her the greatest prize of all, the only known living female of her species. She becomes a target for destruction or slavery by races that feared the Time Lords as she could begin the restoration of that ancient race.

The Doctor becomes involved when my character's body begins to change into a Galifrian, and this is detected by his TARDIS time-ship’s telepathic circuits and later his own abilities to mind-link. I thought it sounded promising, and I would get to see a foreign country -- maybe even visit where my ancestor John had lived.

“Is there a chance I could see a little of the country? I realize we won’t have much time, but I’d love to see something, maybe a castle or some historic sites? I’m thinking of maybe Caernarfon Castle. I remember watching Prince Charles investment as the Prince of Wales via live TV relayed by the Early-bird satellite.”

They looked at me oddly for a moment; the BBC producer was looking at me, too, but not for the same reason, I thought. I chose to ignore it for the moment, though I was beginning to regret dressing so provocatively. It was one thing to do so at Whateley, or even back at the Mutant-wing and UW-Madison campus, but it was not appropriate for here, I began to believe.

“Remember I’m older than I look, and the live world-wide broadcast was a big deal in my day; its routine stuff now,” I said, trying to remain professional.

“Looking at you, Joanie, it’s hard to remember you’re the oldest person here. You have me beat by several years,” said the BBC executive.

~~Yeah, I noticed you *looking* too. Has he never seen breasts before?~~

~~Why am I so angry? There’s no reason for it. Oh, Mr. BBC staring at my boobs is annoying, but I did choose to wear this sexy dress. Then I don’t believe that nonsense about dressing provocatively inviting rape either. Rapists rape, flashy clothing might make you more visible, but it’s no excuse. But, on-the-other-hand, he’s used to seeing attractive starlets in skimpy clothes, the dirty old … Joanie, calm down! Why am I suddenly so irritable? Of course, that’s it; I’ve been trying to remember something important I meant to do the other day, but what was it? Ghod I hate it when I forget things. ~~

While I’d been thinking, the BBC executive collected his thoughts, then smiled. “I do believe we can find a ceremony to attend. If you can come for the last two weeks of June; you can see the opening of the Welsh Parliament on your last day. Scotland and Wales have limited self-rule now, you know, Joanie. The festivities are colorful and drip with history,” he said happily.

“You’ll have a great time; the Parliament will be opened by Prince ...” David started to say. At least he was looking me in the eyes.

“... a prince royal, you may or may not recognize him in the States,” interrupted the BBC exec. “I hear Charlotte Church will sing for the ceremony.”

“Charlotte is a marvelous singer -- one of the best there is. I’d love to see her perform,” I said. “It would be a treat for me; thank you for thinking of it.”

”There are excellent connections from Cardiff to Boston via Gatwick or Heathrow; you can be home the same day. What do you say, Joanie?”

“I’m your girl.” ~~But if you don’t stop leering, I may get violent. Damn, I feel frustrated. ~~

“We’d like to film some publicity footage for ....”

“Deal’s off!” I said in no uncertain words to the BBC exec.

He seemed shell-shocked. So was I, afterwards. ~~Where the hell is this anger coming from?~~

“Are you f...n’ crazy? The last thing you or I need is advance publicity of my appearance. Why not go with the old ‘mystery guest star’ or ‘promising new actresses début’ or something like that. Plastering my name all over will only give the lunatic-fringe, anti-mutant groups time to organize a more effective protest of my appearance; I am a prominent mutant after all. I will do the show only if the first time the public sees or hears of my name is in the opening credits. Use something simple like ’Joan Brown’ or ‘introducing Joan Brown’. The reaction of the fans will publicize the repeats and following episodes. Word of mouth is a powerful advertising tool, and by the time the loonies react it will be too late,” I suggested.

I swear I saw the wheels turning in the executive's head. That’s an expression, not a new mutant power, but you understand. Meanwhile I was confused as to where all that vitriol came from; I rarely was cross at anyone since my mutation. Something was seriously wrong but what?

“You may have something here, and it certainly saves on the budget. Speaking of money, how much do you want per episode? We can’t pay a lot, but the pay is not trifling,” he said, and David nodded in agreement.

“Union scale will be more than sufficient; I don’t need the income to be honest. I do ask that you donate my pay to one or more of your local mutant support groups in Wales; I’m sure they need the help,” I said.

“Beautiful and generous; are you seeing anyone currently, Joanie?” David asked.

~~Strange, he seemed a bit other-side-of-the-fence on the show, but then first impressions are just that. ~~

At least I was calmer now that I’d blown of some steam.

“I’m flattered, David, but I do have a person I’m trying to remain faithful to,” I said carefully.

“If he, or she, has your heart they must be something special,” he replied.

“Special doesn’t cover it.”

~~Try adding underage, schoolboy, and potential prison time, and the picture is more complete... And I wouldn’t change it if I could, but then good things are worth waiting for — at least four years in our case. Ghods, I’m such a romantic. ~~

It hit me why I’d been so cranky.

~~Eric! I forgot to call Eric on Friday night. Shit, how will I ever make it up to … oooh? Yeah, that would do it! No! Get *that* out of your mind. Remember, girl, you promised, absolutely not until he’s 18. Do you want to go to prison? No wonder I’d been such a bitch; I was projecting my anger with myself onto him … My, aren’t we Freudian today, Joanie. ~~

The extreme range of expressions on my face must have been like a living *neon sign*, advertising my feelings for this unnamed special someone. I wanted our relationship to remain private so I maneuvered them off that track.

“Why not broadcast the three shows as two broadcasts. One episode the first time to whet their appetites, the second they get the smorgasbord of the remaining two,” I suggested. “Oh, I’d like a DVD copy of the three shows prior to broadcast. I want to tease my sci-fi club friends. I know about copyright and all.”

The exec looked hesitant, and at my cleavage again. I slipped into full-blown sex-kitten mode.

“No one will touch them, oooh ... other than me,” I requested, while using my cleavage, body and voice to their sultry best.

I looked past my *victim* and noticed several nearby patrons had stopped in mid-bite, and their busboy was walking away awkwardly, as if his pants didn’t fit right. The specific response I wanted didn’t take long.

“God, Joanie, how do you do that? One moment you were businesslike and matter-of-fact, and moments later you were this living wet dream. Could you ease up on it as I fear I’ll soon do something embarrassing in my trousers? I haven’t felt this way since my first date with my future wife. That was the finest bit of acting I’ve seen in years,” the BBC exec said and loosened his tie; I suspected he wanted to *adjust* something else, but we were in public.

“It’s not exactly acting; I have an intense libido ...” I gave that a moment to sink in, then I whispered in that husky tone, “Take me now, stallion.”

His eyes fluttered for a moment as a strained expression transformed his face, and he quickly looked embarrassed in the extreme.

“Pardon me, may I be excused?” the executive asked politely.

He rose from the table and hurried to the gents, holding a napkin in front of his ... I giggled myself silly as he disappeared.

“Joanie, that was shameless,” said David Tennant.

“He deserved it; my eyes are up here, not slightly below the top of my bust-line,” I explained. “I hope all Welshmen aren’t perverts.”

“He always was a breast man; you should see his wife. She used to be a 'Page Three' girl.”

“And you, Mr. Tennant?”

“David, please. My parents taught me to never objectify women, not that I didn’t notice -- a lot. You are an exquisite woman, Joanie.”

“How sweet of you, David,” I said, and I gave him a hug and a kiss.

I noticed flashes going off, but I wasn’t sure who was being photographed.

“What was that about? Who was being photographed?” I asked.

"Us, I’m afraid. I recognized the photographer, but too late. He’s a paparazzo that follows me around looking for shots he can sell the tabloids," David said, ashamedly and with a hint of anger at the fleeing intruder. “I forgot you’re not used to this sort of thing; some of the worst ones,” he pointed surreptitiously at the retreating photographer, “are little better than parasites. I’m so sorry, Joanie,” David said in explanation.

I could see he was furious at the photographer’s intrusion but David was too expert a player at the publicity game to react foolishly. I, however, was a novice and on the verge of losing it.

“That bastard! I was kissing you! I played right into their hands, didn’t I?” I exclaimed.

I was angry and anxious; I felt like panicking. Part of me wanted to run after him, knock him to the ground and stick that damned camera where the sun doesn’t shine. Part of me wanted to hide. I had to stay in control.

~~Shit, what will Eric think? Oh Ghod! And after I didn’t call him on Friday; he’ll think I’ve dumped him ... Calm down, Joanie, concentrate. You can salvage this. ~~

“I have one last request: no dining out, not even to get a lousy fast-food breakfast sandwich while I’m in Wales. A closed set is non-negotiable. I’m not dealing with those ... parasites,” I snapped. I was disgusted with myself for being careless.

“Whoa, calm down, Joanie,” said my PBS mini-series producer. “I’d think by now you’d be used to it.”

“Not when it may hurt my closest friends. The last thing I want them to think is I’m a slut,” I said, upset and close to tears.

~~Damn, but I feel like I could be one so easily. This new body, this new life is more complicated than I ever imagined. I’m beginning to understand how so many girls end up unwed mothers in their teens. Hurry up and turn eighteen, Eric. ~~

“We’ll come up with additional cover. We can say David was here in conjunction with the NOVA special, doing some narration and the like. It’s thin, but it should do. Don’t worry, Joanie, we’re professionals,” the local PBS executive producer said.

* * * *

Around two o'clock, I called Babs from my hotel. They’d rented my room for Saturday and Sunday. This gave me a place to dress and relax before heading back to Whateley; I could stay overnight if I needed the rest. I explained to her about the offer to guest star on Doctor Who, and that it meant I’d have to go to Wales for a couple weeks in June. I also told her about the paparazzo following David and the circumstances behind the embarrassing photos. I so wanted to tell Eric. I felt guilty about Friday and wanted him to know how much I missed him.

Babs explained that Eric had not yet returned from an out-of-town scholastic event. His grades had always been good, but they had improved noticeably in the last few months. They were so good he’d been encouraged to participate in this scholastic competition by his teachers. Babs made sure I knew what she knew -- it was due to me.

“Joanie, Eric worships you.”

“You mean candles, mystic rites, and animal sacrifices?”

“Girl, control yourself -- and I wanted to say that,” Babs said, and giggled. “My son is dead-serious about it. He’s keeping to the exercise program with his dad; he’s careful what he eats, like an athlete in training. He has never studied harder in his life. I’ve received calls from his teachers asking what we did to motivate him. Bob and I say, honestly, ‘he’s trying to impress this special girl.’ Mel joked to me she thinks space aliens replaced him with a clone,” Babs said calmly.

“Mel would say something like that; she has your sense of humor, Babs. How is she? I’d like to talk to her.”

“On Sunday afternoons Mel meets at Lisa’s house with the girls from the November sleepover. It’s the weekly meeting of the Official Joanie Fan Club; Mel is President,” Babs said and giggled.

“Her being President was a given, Babs. Tell her I’m happy for her,” I said and laughed.

“The girls even wear special club clothes; an oversized sleep-shirt with your picture on it and bunny slippers. That’s over their regular clothes; it’s not a sleepover but they like to remember. They spend several hours answering questions from your fans; Mel says they have lots of fun doing it. They have an official FAQ sheet on you posted to the Web; don’t worry, my dad reviewed it to make sure it protects your family. Lisa’s family has a special high-speed link your Mr. Karaoke provided them to a server bank at a local internet provider. The girls decided Lisa’s was best, as the family owns a business here and are unlikely to move. We’d host it, but you know how fickle politics can be; it was the girls who figured that out.

“They hold live chat sessions, twice a month, on Saturday nights. The girls you met on the train are often online with Mel and her friends too. Your Mr. K hired a tutor in computers and web page maintenance to help Mel and her friends. They are learning useful skills and are having fun,” Babs told me excitedly, then she moaned softly.

"What was that, Babs?”

“Joan or John kicked me ... ooh, they did it again. They are energetic babies; sometimes it’s hard to sleep, they’re so active.” Babs hesitated, then she spoke in a way that worried me. “Joanie, you know I trust you, and I’m sure someday you will be my son’s wife. I want to be a grandmother; I want to be surrounded my children, and their children -- your children. It‘s just, I ... I’m scared, Joanie," Babs said.

“Scared of what, Babs?”

“Of dying; that I’ll never see these babies, my twins. Promise me, if I die, you will raise them as if they were your own,” Babs said, and quietly began to sob.

“Babs, dear, it’s probably all the stress and hormones talking. I’ve read how some women suffer terrible depression after they give birth; I don’t see why you can’t have problems before the birth.” I was guessing on this last bit, I’m no expert on pregnancy, but I hoped it would calm her.

~~I’d better ask one of the doctors on campus about that to be sure; I don’t know enough to tell if this is normal or if something is seriously wrong. Babs’s emotional state has me worried, and I will be pregnant myself someday. ~~

“I know it’s irrational, but my gut, my instinct, tells me something will go wrong, and I’ll lose the babies and die. I can’t shake the feeling,” Babs said, distraught.

“Have you told your doctors, or Bob?” I asked.

“Bob tries to cheer me up, and he made sure the doctors tested me thoroughly. Physically, I’m in excellent condition for a 35 year old with twins; mentally, they say I’m having a mild case of anxiety. With the babies, they are reluctant to prescribe anything, so I get daily checkups and they gave me relaxation exercises. It helps, but I still get overwhelmed. Could you come and visit me, Sis?”

“What? SIS?”

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to say ... yes, I did mean that. Joanie, I don’t know when it happened, but I think of you as my sister -- the younger sister I never had,” Babs said, sounding happier.

I was confused.

“Your younger sister, Babs? I’m 15 years older than you!” I exclaimed in amazement.

“Joanie, hear me out. I had to grow up fast after mom died. I barely can remember her; I was so young when she died. Dad tried to give me a normal childhood; he tried so hard. I had a great nanny, a college girl; she’s his personal assistant now. He spent lots of time with me and took me to parks and fun places. I got to play girls sports and took dance lessons -- anything I wanted. But he couldn’t give me what I wanted most, a brother or sister. I told him I missed mommy, but it was okay for him to get a new mommy. Dad couldn’t; he loved her too much.

"When I entered puberty and blossomed, I became his escort to major political events and concerts. The press speculated he was grooming me to replace him in the Senate. It was at one of these events after I graduated high school that I met Bob, and you know the rest. We got married soon after we knew I was pregnant, and I had Eric while I was still in college. I stayed on to finish my degree; Dad and Bob were so supportive. I love my kids and husband; I wouldn’t give them up for anything. Despite all this, and all their love, my silly little girl dream survived.

"Joanie, part of me still wanted that older brother or younger sister. Then you came running into our lives in that sexy-hot leather getup of yours. I swear something clicked in my mind as we rode in the limo, and we talked about your period. It was like you were my much younger sister sharing a girl secret. As I think on it now, that’s when I started to think of you as my younger, prettier sister. Then after Mel’s birthday party when the news broke, and I learned you’d been a middle-aged man, I couldn’t believe my good fortune. To wait 35 years for a brother or sister, then you *both* save my child, I ...”

“Somehow I’ll come, Sis,” I said trying to remain composed. I could hear Babs sobbing.

“You okay? Speak to me, Babs ... big sis?

“I ... I ... I’m okay, those were happy tears, little sis,” Babs said and laughed a little.

“Let’s not overdo it, Sis. Remember, if I am your sister, marrying Eric would be incest. That would not make Eric, or me, happy at all. But if you want to think of me that way, I’m honored. You know that means you get two sisters; you get my younger sister too, though she’d be your older sister and mine as well. Did that make any sense?” I asked, and giggled.

“Made perfect sense to me, but then I’m silly like you, Joanie Sis. That name needs work, but I’ll figure it out. Thank for letting me vent. These mood swings are terrifying, but Bob has helped me though them. Unfortunately it’s fundraising time, and as Governor the party demands he do his share. He’s out until late tonight on the rubber-chicken circuit and yes, Joanie, I trust him. I may be a fat cow, but I am the randiest fat cow in town. Bob’s a happy man.”

“If the mood-swings get to be too much, tell Bob. I bet he’ll come running. I don’t know how soon I can come out; I’m busy filming for NOVA in Boston each weekend for the next couple weeks. I might be able to sneak in to Iowa on a weekend later in May. I’ll definitely come for a week or two in June, probably the first half. The rest of June, I’m overseas in Wales,” I told her.

“I’ll tell the kids not to say a word about the Doctor Who filming. Joanie, you will call Eric and explain about the photos? It would mean so much more coming from your, dear. I know you’re faithful and would not knowingly do anything to harm him. In his heart he knows this too, but teenage love is tricky,“ Babs said sweetly.

”Tell me about it; I’m stuck with it for eternity, more or less. If you feel out of control, or even stressed, call me any hour, day or night. I may grumble, but I’ll be there for you,” I assured her.

“Why not say 24/7? By the way, Sis, you just said you could be stuck dealing with teenage love for more than eternity. That sounds a tad impossible,” Babs ribbed me; I was glad she was feeling like her old self.

“I said ‘Day or night’ because I hate 24/7. And there are things that take longer than eternity; such as finding a clean restroom in an Irish pub on St. Paddy’s day in Chicago. Goodnight, my dear sister Babs,” I said and laughed.

“Good night, Sister,” Babs said contentedly.

* * * *

It was nearly three PM when I checked out and was chauffeured to the PBS station to retrieve my pickup. The executive producer rode with me.

“Nice of you to come, but all I needed was a safe escort to my truck.”

“Do you have to leave immediately, Joanie?” she asked.

“I want to get back well before dark; the roads near school are twisting and narrow, and we’ve a lot of wildlife in the area.”

“Could you wait half an hour? I checked while you were resting and refreshing yourself, and found some of the TOH crew are available today,” she said with enthusiasm.

“This Old House?” I asked. She nodded in reply. “That would be great! We start demolition tomorrow. If they want something other than my photos of the farm prior to the work, tomorrow morning is the last chance,” I explained.

“Great! Thanks for mailing those preliminary building plans to us, it gave their producer a guide for setting up a tentative shooting schedule. We’ll stick to the same weekend filming schedule for NOVA and the TOH crew can stay in New Hampshire for several days during the week. An hour or so per day filming with you will do for that. They’ll set up time-lapse cameras and keep a camera operator on-site. When something major is about to happen call us, and we’ll get the talent back up there ASAP,” she replied.

“The camera crew will stay in Dunwich?” I asked.

I hadn’t been listening closely, and I missed a big detail she’d revealed.

“Or Berlin, they’re both close by. The TOH crew will also shoot your NOVA opening scenes at your farm and Whateley. I have the crew at the station already, and the talent can meet us there -- are you game?”

“Go for it,” I said.

“Wonderful! This will save us time and money as we shoot the first of the shows at your farm,” she said.

“First of the shows -- you mean shows as in more than one? I thought you were filming bits here and there, and it would end up as a one or two-part celebrity home visit?”

This was not as I had expected.

“I screened your test footage for the TOH producer and director while you were busy with the BBC filming. The producer is scrambling to re-arrange the 2007/2008 show schedule to give your projects more exposure. That you don’t expect any donations allowed us to get this organized quickly, though I’m certain our contributors would jump at the opportunity. I was told your project had interested TOH, but the production schedule was set. Seeing your test footage changed their minds. TOH will do a full series on your farm, possibly the majority of the season. The other projects can be broadcast later than planned, or used for a fund-raising special,” she said.

“But what of...”

“We know about the need for Whateley and its students to remain safe from undue scrutiny. We are willing to sign an agreement similar to the one you have with Playboy. We will protect your secrets.”

“Okay, I’ll take that as your verbal agreement to my request for secrecy. We can sign a formal one as soon as my lawyer drafts it. I’ll fax it to you and you can overnight it back.

I looked at my watch and was concerned at the time.

“The crew from This Old House needs to get here soon, or I’ll have to meet them tomorrow at my farm,” I said.

“No problem; here we are at the station, and I see everyone has made it here ahead of us”

She made introductions; I noted a man with a familiar face in the background. The TOH technical people explained what they intended to do. Using a lowlight, auto-stabilized, hand-held HD camera, they would interview me about the project as we drove. The camera/sound man’s equipment was self-sufficient, but could get plenty of power from the DC and AC receptacles in my truck as required. One operator was all that was needed. The rest of the film crew would follow my truck in a station van.

“Are you sure this will work?” I asked.

“We’ve done this many times, Ms. Brown, I mean Joanie, and in vehicles not nearly as well equipped. Just concentrate on your driving, you don’t need to look at the camera; I have some special tricks and lens attachments to get good profile shots despite sitting in the back seat,” the camera technician said.

The whole time the technician spoke, the familiar, wiry, middle-aged man stood watching us intently. He smiled as I’d seen him do hundreds of times on TV as he came over to me and shook my hand.

“I’m Norm Abrams; I’m one of the hosts on This Old House,” the wiry contractor/woodworking expert said. I could hear the Boston accent in his voice.

“I think I’ve heard of you,” I said, and laughed. “Okay guys, let’s go, but I do drive aggressively at times.” I had to warn them, but I wasn’t about to admit my truck could outrun most sports cars. “Before I go, I need one last thing. Hugs and kisses; you were great,” I said and smiled.

I hugged everyone, saving David for last; the BBC people had delayed their departure for me as they were keen to impress me with their courtesy. I whispered in his ear, and Mr. Tennant and I played Hollywood screen lovers -- it was safe, we were inside the secure garage.

When we came up for air he said, “Mah word, Miss Joanie, your ministrations have stirred mah affections most delightfully.”

I thought he did well, too. I whispered in his ear again. We walked towards our waiting vehicles.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” I said, then I giggled and looked over my shoulder. “I always wanted to say that line.”

We got into our respective vehicles and drove off, the station van following my truck at a discreet distance.

* * * *

“What do we do now?" I asked Norm Abrams and the camera/sound technician.

“I’d like you to describe your projects; I have notes from my producer that describe key aspects of you projects, so I can ask intelligent questions to guide you. Don’t worry if you make mistakes, or say something you shouldn’t -- that’s what editing is for,” Norm said.

~~What, making mistakes or correcting them? ~~

We talked casually, while I drove though the troublesome Boston traffic. He asked about my career, what I was doing at the Academy, and my plans for the future. We had decided that we’d call Whateley ‘the Academy‘, as it was technically correct yet didn’t give away where we were. Once we were free of the heavy Boston traffic, we began the serious filming. I described my projects in detail: why I’d purchased the farm, my construction plans, and what my long-run intentions were. He explained some of the technical aspects and challenges the builder -- our Operations department -- would face.

“Our viewers will see some unconventional building materials and methods at your projects. I’m eager to see them myself," Norm said in a convincing tone.

“The Academy has a student body that spans the widest range of mutant types and abilities of any school in the nation. There are many devisor/gadgeteers among them, and with so many mutants here having major powers, by necessity the Academy has become a research and test facility for advanced materials and processes. This helps with their education and minimizes the damage some of them might inflict on the infrastructure or their fellow students. Some of the features in my home are only now coming to market. Some are not yet out of the development stage. I’m taking advantage of this because it’s available and it helps educate the students involved,” I said.

“Students?” Norm asked.

“Much of the work will be done by work-study students supervised by licensed professionals from the school Operations department. This will be a final exam for several of them,” I explained.

“Will you be putting any sweat-equity into the projects?” Norm asked.

“I intend to do as much as I can, at least until this June. I’ll be tied up with out-of-state commitments most of the month. I’ve organized a student pop band, they plus several other student friends of mine, will work with me as a light demolition and cleanup crew. They will all be paid by me for their efforts. The Academy is terribly expensive to attend; the nature of the student body and their needs makes it so. Any extra income is welcomed by the students. They will also be guests at my home in the future as I hope to remain their friend after they graduate.”

“What are your long-term goals for the farm?” Norm asked.

“To build a home to entertain my friends and family, a retreat in times of stress, a place to pursue my hobby, and a loving home to raise a family,” I explained.

“You have children?” he asked.

“No, not yet but I want to more than I ever could have imagined. I’ve dreamt of having children and putting down roots. I do love being at the Academy," I said.

“And you do what there?” Norm asked me.

“I teach history, mostly, but I also take classes as a student. I’ve been a woman and mutant less than a year, and I desperately need instruction in both. Mind you, a few of my friends think I have the woman part down pretty good, but there are things I need to work on.”

~~Like how to keep a long-distance relationship healthy and how to, um, make babies. I know it in theory but I need practice sooo bad, lots and lots of practice. Stop thinking like that, Joanie, or you’ll assault the TOH men, and that would be dangerous while driving.~~

“I do historical research, and I substitute teach a wide range of subjects, including music. I’m a proud auxiliary member of our Campus Security force. I fund-raise, and I sing on the side -- it’s my hobby,” I said and grinned.

“Your most recent fund raising activity I’ve heard about. For those who don’t know, Joanie posed for Playboy magazine to raise several million dollars for the school scholarship fund. Could you auto ...”

“... graph your copy? Okay, but it doesn’t come out until May,” I explained.

“I feel it’s my civic duty to buy a copy,” he said.

”Me too,” said the cameraman.

We got a complete overview of my projects shot during the drive. We first stopped in Dunwich to get them lodging. Next, I took them to campus so Whateley Security could issue them guest passes and copy the tentative shooting schedule. That way Security would know when to expect the camera crew, both here at Whateley and at my farm. When on campus, the TOH people would be escorted continuously to preserve the anonymity of the students and faculty.

We stopped by the farm for a quick tour -- enough so they knew what to expect on Monday morning. As a courtesy, I drove them back to Dunwich. They could have traveled in the station van but it was full of equipment and only comfortable for two.

On a hunch, I called the private number of the Ford dealership’s owner. He promised to have a new F-series pickup delivered to the TOH crew at their hotel by 7:30 AM, Monday, even if he had to help transport it there personally. The This Old House people would get to use the truck for free; the opening shots of Norm and other hosts arriving in the pickup was considered ample payment for the rental. Ghod bless product placement.

* * * *

I was back on campus at dusk. I checked in with Security, then checked on my smilodons. They were happily playing with Pinky, and the female K-9 officer’s male Doberman, Fifi. The cats and dog got along great; I hoped it would remain that way when George and Gracie each weighed five times as much as the dog.

“George and Gracie are a couple of pussy cats, aren’t you dears,” the officer said as they let her scratch them behind the ears and on their bellies -- very trusting on their part.

“I wish to point out these are apex predators, and nothing preyed on them until humankind came along. They are not pussycats ... come to mommy my little snookums!” I said in baby-talk. They came over and purred like chainsaws as I crouched and we rubbed against each other. That’s me and the smilodons, silly d/j/w readers.

"'My little snookums’, Joanie? That’s a strange name for apex predators, but what do I know? Come, Fifi, time for a brushing and din-dins," she said and Fifi walked perfectly at her heels as they left.

* * * *

April 30, 2007

I got up early, did an abbreviated morning run, then met my cleanup and demolition crew for breakfast at 7:15AM.

“Good morning! I see everyone is here. Hi, Cheryl, you're looking chipper,” I said cheerfully.

“Morn,” she grumbled back, then started worshiping her huge cup, make that reservoir, of coffee. It had to be at least a quart.

“32 ounces of coffee? Girl, you’ll be so wired Superman couldn’t catch you,” I joked.

“Not morning person,” Cheryl said in a cryptic monotone.

She paused and chug-a-lugged more coffee. Some of the kids were aghast. Cheryl yawned and chugged even more coffee. The caffeine began to kick in.

“It’s not all coffee. It’s one-third of a cup of ice from the soda dispenser, skim milk poured over that until the ice not quite floats and a couple packets of sugar. Then and only then do I fill the cup with coffee. The ice cools the coffee so I can chug it. The milk and sugar make it taste good and easier on my stomach,” Cheryl explained more and more rapidly.

“So you like coffee the way my late grandmother and I do. Kewl Cheryl!” I exclaimed.

I could see several kids squirming, sticking out their tongues, and pretending to gag.

“It’s a big time saver not having to wait for the coffee to cool. Think of it as a do-it-yourself power drink, or an upscale iced-coffee drink Starbucks would charge a fortune for. Finish up; if you’re staying past nine, or can’t eat this early, grab a sandwich to take with you. We leave for the farm in five minutes; meet me in the Administration parking lot,“ I announced.

* * * *

We gathered by my truck. Mystor hadn’t seen it yet and thought it was ‘bad’ -- as in good. White boys should not try to do ghetto slang; it sounds terrible.

“Thanks for the compliment. Remember, your work today is to pay me back for my clothes; you never did restore them,” I said, as I frowned at him.

“I was showing off for the class, and I shrunk them too much. I can’t generate that much magical energy; I’ve tried, Joanie. I’m very sorry, that was a hot ... I mean that outfit looked good on you,“ he said.

“I thought it was sexy, too. If you work hard today, I’ll pay you from tomorrow on and we'll call it even, okay?” I offered.

“Thanks, Joanie!” he shouted, then he ran up and kissed me hard -- really hard -- and that hug....

~~My Ghod this is wonderful, I ...~~ I snapped out of my rapture.

“Mister Mystor, that was taking liberties with faculty; I could have you expelled,“ I growled in a so-so impression of Charles Laughton in Mutiny on the Bounty. He looked heartbroken. “I won’t say anything as you kiss very well, but in future don’t do that. I’m spoken for. If you’re looking for a girl, Lonnie here is in that magic class with you. Why not ask her out, or are you chicken?” I teased him.

“I did, and she turned me down cold,” he whispered.

“Were you dressed in that Goth outfit, and acting cock-sure like you did in the magic class?” I asked.

“Yeah, a guy needs a rep,” he said.

“Be yourself, Mystor; drop the macho posturing and dress nice for a change. You’d be good looking if you dumped the Goth look. It doesn’t suit you, trust me on this. The blue jeans and work shirt you have on today are much better, don’t you think so, Lonnie?” she blushed and hid behind another kid. “I’ve done my good deed for the day. Listen up, everyone! Would some of you please get in the Whateley van that my friend Chris from the motor pool is driving? When that’s filled, the rest get in my truck. And away we go!” I say in a singsong voice.

”What?” “Huh?” “Eh?” and variations on that theme assaulted my ears.

“Jackie Gleason used to say that after his opening monolog on the TV variety show he starred in back in the 50’s and 60’s. I would have used ‘We’re burning daylight,' but that supposed John Wayne quote is so overused.”

* * * *

We finally got to the farm, where Stan and Morrie demonstrated the safety gear, and the proper ways to handle power tools, crowbars and such. They checked everyone for proper fit as they issued the gear; I would reimburse Operations later. This would save having to drive everyone to the nearest hardware store or building supply center.

I gave everyone a quick overview of the project, then Stan described the next several day's activities. A few kids had to leave for early classes at eight, but could come back in the afternoon for several hours. Chris drove them back to Whateley, and provisions were made to shuttle kids back and forth as necessary. Operations transferred the Sinclair sisters to my project, instead of their usual duties as student employees. Stan and Morrie felt the two were seasoned workers now, and ready for extra responsibility. The girls were to be used wherever and at whatever they would be of most use. That meant they were the utility infielders of the student construction crew and would get lots of extra hours -- as much as the labor laws allowed. The girls needed the money badly as they are wards of the state.

“Fran! Harry! Glad to see you made it out here on your own,” I said.

“Stan and Morrie brought us. I had an idea to make disposing of construction trash easier and cleaner, and Fran is helping route the system so it doesn’t interfere with her excavation and stonework efforts,” Harry said.

“Harry’s idea will keep the worksite much cleaner and safer, Joanie. We’ll have it up by early tomorrow; you’ll love it,“ the willowy girl said.

“I’ll leave you to it; I need to get back to class. Security can find me at any time if I’m needed.”

Most of my cleanup crew had 9 o’clock classes and left with me. The remaining work crew -- the Sinclair sisters, Fran, Harry, and others from Operations -- began preliminary site preparations. The TOS people did some limited filming while we were there, and made plans to mount several time-lapse cameras that would capture views of most of the action. I did see Stan and Morrie being filmed as they explained to Norm Abrams what the next phases in my project entailed.

* * * *

I attended my morning classes and taught one history course. Next up was a noon meeting I’d scheduled with the current head of the History department, Dr. Joshua P. Bakers, the former head, Dr. Jean Alden, and Dr. Korolev, from what department I’m still not sure. No one wanted to be the permanent head of the history department so they rotated the duty several times a year.

I had invited Circe; she teaches both magic and history, but she’s unpredictable and didn’t make it. I’ve not dealt with her much and it’s probably a good thing. She has a temper and a quirky sense of humor that can cause troubles. Jean used to be John until he pissed Circe off by serving on one of the Plymouth Colony witch trial juries. Anyplace else, I’d think Jean was kidding me or a loon, but at Whateley I’m willing to believe her story. Jean’s was the young *doe* in the department until I came. Jean and I got on well; I think our *similar* pasts helped.

“I think it’s time I do some serious research, and fulfill my obligations to the Meridan chair and this department,” I explained.

“You’ve been quite helpful filling in as needed, Joanie,” Jean said.

“But I should be doing more. I need to get going on the mutant histories and artifacts archiving, or find the staff to do it for me. It’s been over four months since I arrived; I’m settled in. With Sergei’s help, I know my time-travel capacities well enough to try some *working* trips. I feel like I’m wasting space by holding the Meridian chair if I’m not doing significant research, or assisting others in theirs. I’ve already let several projects related to *show business* reserve some of my time for the next couple months; it’s high-time I set aside some time for historical research,” I said firmly.

“I understand your motivations; what do you have in mind?” asked Korolev.

“I am arranging for you to teach several courses this fall, Joanie. I’m sure you can be up to speed in time to be effective teaching. Your substitute work has been exemplary,” she said. “That includes courses you know little or nothing about. Dr. Ophelia Tenent, Caduceus, has told me several times she’d like you to teach or assist in her classes on a regular basis. She said something about your total naiveté helping force the students into trying novel ideas,” she explained.

“That should go over great. I’ve already been stripped naked by magic and subjected to a lust/compulsion spell. What next? Sorcery to make my boobs grow and my IQ lower? These are mutant teens we’re talking about here; teens in general are apprentice perverts. Having me teach magic to teens is like letting a bunch of pyromaniacs loose in a fireworks store,” I said firmly; remarkable acting on my part, don’t you think?

“You don’t believe that now, surely,” Jean replied.

~~Thank you, Ghod! ~~

“That was in jest, and stop calling me Shirley,” I said, and began giggling.

“You’ve seen Airplane! a few times, haven’t you, dear?” she asked.

“A few, but not as many times as Young Frankenstein,” I replied grinning.

“I had to ask,” she said half-moaning. “I feel you are ready to teach your own class, Joanie. The department and I are eager to help you as needed.”

“I was thinking of combining some time-travel related research with an advanced seminar for our top students or even some of the faculty. I’d like to offer it as a summer course, if possible. That’s where Sergei comes in,” I explained.

“What may I do for you, pretty lady,” Korolev said turning on his bearish charm.

“You know my time travel capabilities and limitations better than I do. Could you and my department head devise a series of research trips, possibly to Whateley’s past, or some other nearby site?” I asked.

“We could do this, but to let more people know of your ability is dangerous, Joanie. I would not want to see you hurt,” Sergei said.

“That’s why I need you to build me a lightweight but convincing fake time-machine. If they think it’s the machine and not me ...”

“... your secret is safe,” Dr. Bakers finished the sentence for me. “What do you think, Sergei? Can we pull this off?” he asked.

I was amazed, Dr. Bakers didn’t usually talk much with me; I’m too silly for his tastes at times. That pipe of his is both comforting and annoying. It makes him look like a kind-hearted grandfather, but the smell. I swear he chooses tobaccos on the basis of how irritating the smoke is to others. Today’s blend struck me as a delightful mix of flue-cured burley, tear-gas and VX. Fortunately I’d drank a large coffee that morning, the poor-man’s answer to the atropine injector.

“How soon do you need it?” Sergei asked.

“I’ll need a synopsis for Ms. Carson in days; it’s already late for adding to the summer school schedule as it is. The actual time travel need not take the entire summer session; they will need time to write their papers for me,” I added.

“There are aspects of Whateley’s and the greater Dunwich area's prehistory which are not well documented. The early days of our mutant school have disturbing gaps in the records. Much of the former private college’s history is poorly documented -- the college’s records are appalling incomplete. We know almost nothing from before the college was built. Operations would love to have a more complete map of buried mystical objects on and near the campus. Whateley and the surrounding region were, and are, something of a magnet for such things. I’m confident we can come up with something worthwhile, Joanie. I’m proud of you, girl. I was hoping you’d take some initiative in the department,” Jean said, and Joshua nodded his concurrence.

“Thank you, both of you. I’m busy with my farm project, and wouldn’t have the time to do this properly. You're good friends,” I said and hugged and kissed them. Korolev’s response was, delightfully enthusiastic.

“My, you Russian men kiss well; are you equally good as lovers?” I teased.

“Don’t tempt me, dear lady,” he said. I looked downward and noticed the *measure* of his temptation.

~~Woof! ~~

* * * *

I was assisting with a mid-afternoon class on power theory. They needed someone to demonstrate warper-class powers, and my time stop demonstrations are always show-stoppers. And no, that wasn’t a joke.

“Timeout to Security, Timeout to Security,” my secure cell phone police radio squawked. I acknowledged the message and hurried to Security.

I was surprised to see Chief Delarose there, as he usually takes the night shift.

“Joanie, I wanted to be here with you for this. Your friends at MSG, with assistance from the FBI, have unearthed news regarding Tom and Tina Smith’s parents,” he hesitated, “and it’s not good. I’ll let them explain.”

We went into his office for privacy and security. I sat down and tried not to feel ill. He anticipated this as, instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat next to me on a couch. He didn’t say anything, but gave me a look like, 'Okay, daughter, be brave for your Dad.' Dr. Bellows, and several senior Security officers, joined us. The Chief pressed a remote, and we were on videophone via a camera/microphone unit built into a big flat-panel screen on one wall.

“Joanie, Chief Delarose, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Glacier Girl, and I have news on the Ultra-X-Amine homolog investigation you need to hear. Brace yourself, Joanie, we’ve got Tom and Tina Smith’s parents,” she said and she didn’t sound happy. I tried to ignore the unspoken and clearly unpleasant portion of her message -- that they were dead, or near to it.

“Great news, GG, I’ll tell Tom and Tina ASAP; they’re desperate to hear anything regarding their parents,” I said excitedly.

“Wait, dear,” she said.

~~Dear...? ~ ~ “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me, GG,” I replied.

“We found them, but too late. Their father is dead; their mother is in critical condition and may not make it, though the doctors are trying,” she said.

“What, how, where ... Oh shit, just tell me!” I wailed.

“From the evidence at the scene, the parents had been tortured and beaten to reveal where Tom and Tina had been taken. A printout on the Wisconsin Paranormals and Mutant Facility was found at the site. We think that’s how they knew to attack the hospital.

“It was due to a combination of hard police work and pure luck that we found them. We got a description of a panel-van that was seen loitering in the neighborhood around the time of Tom and Tina’s burnout and the parent’s disappearance -- thank God for nosy neighbors. We alerted the police and sent out search teams.

"An officer, visiting his relatives at their Dane County farm, mentioned the van. They recalled seeing one like it at an abandoned farm down the road. They thought it was hunters and hadn’t reported it, as the landowner often lets hunters on the property. The officer called it in, and we rushed out to meet him.

"The parents were left chained in an abandoned farmhouse basement. No food and precious little water -- an old leaking cistern allowed the mother to get something to drink as her chains had just sufficient slack. The husband’s skull was fractured; he died within a few days of their abandonment. She was almost unconscious and could not speak when rescued -- the result of starvation, stress and a broken jaw.

"I’ll have nightmares of that place I’m sure. It looked like they intended to set fire to the house, but it’s planting season and a farmer renting the land and outbuildings must have disturbed them, and they left. If the farmer had only gone in the house, maybe ... but we’ll never know. The dad’s injuries were severe; we still may not have saved him. From the savageness of the beatings -- and other evidence -- we don’t think the parents cracked; you can tell Tom and Tina that.

"Gin has called in her magic friends, and Dr. Sara and a team of specialists are doing all they can. We took Mrs. Smith into the mutant wing for her protection. It’s the length of time since the injuries and her fragile mental state that’s the problem. The brain activity is normal, if understandably agitated, but physically she’s bad. The next 48 hours will tell the story,” GG said.

“What do I tell Tom and Tina?”

I was crying softly; the twins were family to me and my friends.

~~My family! ~~

“What of the Kenners? Are they at risk? If they are harmed I’ll ...” I practically was screaming into the videophone. Chief Delarose wrapped an arm around me.

“Stay calm, Joanie. You can’t help Tom or Tina if you lose it,” he said in a fatherly tone.

“Joanie, are you alright?” GG asked, sounding very concerned.

“Yes, I’ll hang on for the kids,” I said, as I fought back the tears and rage.

“Tell Tom and Tina the truth, but don’t let them alone for any length of time -- not even to go to the bathroom. This added stress could make them suicidal,” cautioned Dr. Bellows.

“Your relatives are safe, Joanie. The FBI had the Kenners under 24/7 surveillance, soon after you rescued their daughter Susan. It’s costing a fortune, but this is now a top-priority case. The Ultra-X-Amine homolog is a danger to national security. Mutants made to order, or a mass outbreak of mutant burnouts, would be a nightmare, and they know it. GG explained.

“We figured you’d be worried for your cousin’s family, so I contacted a North Carolina supers group, and they are assisting in protecting the Kenners. Several members of MSG and the GMMO -- The Greater Milwaukee Mutants Organization -- are taking turns watching your aunt and uncle, Suzy’s grandparents and your various cousins on that side of your family. We have a team watching your dad and sister, too. We care for you. Joanie; we won’t let you and yours be harmed in anyway, if we can help it,” GG said.

“Thank you, GG, um, Janice. That means a lot. I’d better get it over with and tell Tom and Tina, “ I said with increasing sadness in my tone.

“I don’t envy you. Viewing the parents was grim; telling their children will be worse in some ways. If I have any news on their mother I will call, day or night. Hang in there for us, Joanie; we’re counting on you. There is some good news: the FBI lifted prints, and got possible DNA and fiber samples from the abandoned farmhouse. We think the criminals slipped up. I’ll let you know however it turns out,” she said.

“Does the mother know her children are safe?” I asked.

“She’s drifting in and out of consciousness; we’d love to sedate her to ease her suffering, but she’s so weak. A mild dose of tranquilizers is all we dare give her; thankfully we have access to telepaths and empaths. Our friend Carrie has managed to communicate with her by telepathy and told her the children are safe with you at a mutant school out East and well guarded. The mother is relieved to know they are safe; it makes what happened to her husband and her have some meaning -- that they didn’t suffer in vain. Their mental conversation confirmed the evidence found at the crime scene; the parents never told the kidnappers anything. I hope to God the mother makes it; the woman and her murdered husband deserve medals. Carrie is doing her damnedest to encourage the mother to fight for her life -- she’s devoted to her children, and maybe that will make the difference. It will be a long recovery, and that’s iffy at best, Joanie,” GG said as we broke-up the video call.

I talked it over with the assembled officers and Dr. Bellows; I would break the news to the twins at our late afternoon band practice. Meanwhile, we would prepare for the worst: one or both of the Smith children panicking. I contacted the Anderson twins, and they agreed to meet me at the practice so I could use their trained empathic/telepathic talents to calm Tom and Tina. They were willing to stay on campus overnight with the twins, if needed.

* * * *

Next, I needed to enlist the help of Tom and Tina’s friends. Fortunately Pinky was to meet me at my room in Poe to exercise the smilodons prior to our scheduled band practice.

“Pinky, I need you to help me this afternoon at our band practice and probably for a considerable time after. I have news regarding the kidnapping of Tom and Tina’s parents. I’ll explain as we run the cats through their paces. Can I count on you, dear?” I asked.

“They’re dead or in bad shape, Joanie, I can tell from your expression and you are radiating pain and sorrow like a lighthouse -- empathically speaking,” she said, as she gave me a hug. I suspected the hug was for both of us.

* * * *

We spoke carefully, making sure no one could overhear us, as we put the smilodons through their exercises. I explained what I’d learned of the Smith’s parents, and of the plan for telling Tom and Tina. I’d devised it on the advice of Security and Dr. Bellows: I would tell them without sugar-coating it that their dad was dead and their mom in the hospital badly injured, but safe. Immediately after and for how ever long it was needed, my friends and I would do what we could to comfort Tom and Tina and would enact a strict buddy system. No matter what Tom or Tina did, one or more of us would be with them at all times, no exceptions. That included the bathroom. Dr. Bellows would let us know when it was safe to end our suicide watch.

Pinky spoke carefully. “I’ll do what I can. It’s unfortunate the kidnappers found the printout about the hospital, but that was the logical place to take them in the Madison area, so it eventually would have been a target,” Pinky said calmly, but I could see she was troubled.

“There is one good thing in all this horror that Tom and Tina can cling to -- their parents’ devotion to them. They proved this as few parents can, Joanie. To be tortured and not give out their children’s location is something to take pride in. Whatever happens, the twins have that fact to cling to.” Pinky paused to wipe her eyes. “The fact that their mom and dad faced death to save them makes me think the twins would not consciously dishonor their parents by committing suicide. That doesn’t mean they won’t commit suicide without thinking; you know, act on an impulse. If we can get them to remember the sacrifice their parents made, and remember their love, they’ll want to survive.” Pinky looked about to say something but paused instead. She had to dry her eyes once more; she was clearly distraught.

“That’s very sound reasoning. How did you think of that?” I asked.

“From my own experience and all my sessions with Dr. Bellows; you also talked a lot about your time in Madison and at the Hospital, so I knew it was the only one in the state for the more extreme cases. The kidnappers would have figured out eventually that Tom and Tina were taken there, printout or not. Torturing the parents was unnecessary and sick,” she said, wiping her eyes again. “I pray the mother recovers, Tom and Tim need her. To lose both parents after the sacrifice they …”

Pinky stopped, and began trembling, she was in agony. She looked into my eyes, then fell into my arms, sobbing. She tried to speak but her crying kept cutting her off. Her mouth would open but nothing except her sobbing came out.

“What’s wrong, dear? Tell Joanie; I can’t help if I don’t know what is wrong. Don’t be embarrassed; there is nothing you can say that will make me love you less,” I said as gently as I could. I swear I sounded just like my mother comforting one of us as little kids. Pinky’s sobbing eased some and she could speak, though she struggled.

“Their mom and dad … they were … he died … she saw him … Oh god, she hates me!” Pinky’s sobs stopped for a moment and she got tense in my arms.

This was scarier than her sobbing. I didn’t know what to do.

“What is it, tell me. Please, my child?” I begged Pinky. She twisted in my grip and looked back in the direction of distant Boston.

“MOM! Why do you hate me?” Pinky wailed and was wracked with sobs.

I feared she might hurt herself with their violence. I did what I could to comfort her and vowed no one would hurt her again, not my baby.

“Cry it out Pinky; I don’t mind. I need you to be strong for your friends; I need you to be strong for yourself and for me. Let it all out — let the pain go,” I said. I was crying too. I hadn’t felt this bad since my mother died.

~~I have to talk to the Senator soon; this situation with Pinky’s mother must end NOW, one way or the other. It tears me apart to see my Pinky like this. ~~

I hugged her like my mother did me when I was hurting as a child -- gently rocking us back and forth. I held her tight and hummed bits of songs I remembered from my distant, half-forgotten childhood. They were fragments of memories, as insubstantial as ghosts, but they comforted me and my dear friend. They were the strangest tunes, incomplete and barely remembered: Ham and Sam, Do Your Ears Hang Low, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and something about an old lady who swallowed a fly. I gently coaxed us both back to a happier state of mind. When she smiled at me and my silly songs, I knew she was okay. I noticed the smilodons had moved closer and seemed to be guarding us. They appeared to relax as we returned to normal.

“I knew you were a special girl when we first met. Don’t ever lose that; don’t ever be afraid to feel,” I said, as we walked back to Poe with the cats neatly at our sides.

* * * *

Pinky surprised me with what she said next. I swear sometimes she’s several steps ahead of me, the way her mind works. We were back in my room when she spoke.

“I know you don’t approve of unauthorized mind control, Joanie, but if it gets bad -- really bad -- I know enough to telepathically implant a compulsion that will make Tom and Tina become violently ill should they attempt to harm themselves or if they seriously think of committing suicide. The effect would temporarily incapacitate them. I know it’s wrong and dangerous to tamper with other’s minds. I’ll only do it if there is no choice,” Pinky said as she fought back tears.

I was shocked at what she said, and what she claimed she could do with her powers.

“No wonder Administration put you in Hawthorne; making people blind with rage must be easy in comparison,” I replied.

“It was worse than that, Joanie. I was empathically projecting my emotions on others, sometimes in my sleep. Dreams can be violent and the effect I had on others was terrible. There were fights breaking out for no reason, and more disgusting things, too. When several girls nearly got raped due to my uncontrolled powers, I was put in my current room; it blocks mental transmissions, thus my nightmares couldn’t harm others. Those episodes stopped after I had you as the target for my frustration.

“Your becoming my friend, after all I tried to do to you, drained the hate from me, Joanie. Not that I still don’t have a temper sometimes, but it’s a normal one now. Dr. Bellows says I won’t have to stay in my room much longer if I keep up my exemplary behavior -- his words, not mine,” Pinky said and smiled. She was her normal, happy self now.

“I have the good Dr. Bellows on standby, and the Anderson twins will be with us, but thank you. We may need your mind trick if things go poorly, Pinky; that was well reasoned and thoughtful on your part. You’re a true friend to Tom and Tina. Thanks for explaining why you were placed in Hawthorne; that was honest and I’m sure it must have brought up unpleasant memories for you. Remember, Pinky, they are inverters; you could be hit with whatever mind powers you use on them. Be careful, you’re precious to me, like a sister or daughter ... nothing sexual. Sorry, that sounded stupid,” I said, but I thought, ~~I sounded like Babs did. Do I think of Pinky like she’s my ... daughter? ~~

“You’re the prettiest girl I know, Joanie, and I am bisexual, in more ways than one. I beat you to that one, didn’t I, Joanie?” she said and I pouted. “I see you as family, too, damn it,” she said, and giggled. “Let’s get George and Gracie settled in and then we’ll do what we have to for Tom and Tina,” Pinky said with conviction.

“Before we do that, we need to get cleaned up. Your face is a mess and I was wearing mascara and eye-shadow. I must look like a refugee from a clown convention,’ I said and giggled softly.

“No, Joanie, you’re too pretty; you could never look bad. Though you have a head start on a bitchin’ Goth look,” she said and laughed.

* * * *

To be continued in Timeout 4.